Of Chess Boards and Frustration
by PhoenixFlame53
Summary: Miles Edgeworth is playing chess against his opponent, determined to win. But just who is Edgeworth's opponent? And why does Edgeworth feel like they are much more than they first seem...?


Hello there! This is another short one-shot I came up with a few hours ago. It was originally going to be Phoenix and Edgeworth playing chess together, but then I remembered _that _character and had a massive brainstorm.

Thus, 'Of Chess Boards and Frustration' was born! I hope you like it. :D  
Please review, as always, and feel free to suggest ideas for more one-shots! The more ideas, the better, especially in preparation for NaNoWriMo next month. X3

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Miles Edgeworth (Can you sell him to me, CAPCOM? Pleaaase? I have cookies! :3) or the characters, places or settings in this work of fiction. I also do not own the game of Chess. (Who even invented Chess, anyway?) All I own is the plot.

* * *

Silence reigned over Room 1202- the High Prosecutor's Office- as Miles Edgeworth furrowed his brow, pale fingers silently plucking a bishop from its place on the black and white battlefield and moving it towards the opposition's side. Wincing as he realised the fatal mistake he had made, Edgeworth closed his eyes and pictured the board in his mind, mentally working out that there was only one way to win from here.

_If…if he moves any one of those two pieces there…_

_Eureka! I can move my piece and take his king, securing my victory!_

_It's all up to chance now…_

A simple game of chess was turning out much harder than Edgeworth had ever expected, and as he leant back on his mahogany, wooden chair (painted, with help from a certain childhood friend of his, to match the colour scheme of the room) he felt the tension rising. Determination suddenly took over his mind, though, and Edgeworth frowned- after all, Miles Edgeworth had never been beaten in chess. Ever.

If he, of all people, beat him, Edgeworth would never be able to hide his shame.

_Come on…_

Edgeworth's competition laughed loudly, and Edgeworth shuddered. It did not sound like a real laugh; it was more of a devious, mocking laugh that he knew would ring endlessly throughout his office for days.

Edgeworth knew what that laugh meant; it meant that something was being hidden. A secret, a lie, or worse- the truth.

Edgeworth had experienced a laugh of this kind before, the most prominent being of his mentor- _late _mentor- Manfred von Karma, when Edgeworth had been but growing up. When von Karma was revealed to be the monster he was, Edgeworth had understood why Manfred would often clutch his right shoulder when his 10-year-old self came near, or laugh like that when he left. It often made him shudder in both fear and disgust- but there was no time for reminiscing now.

He had to focus on the game sat in front of him.

"Edgeworth, that was a bad move. What came over you? You had the upper hand up until now." the man across from Edgeworth asked, making Edgeworth grit his teeth in frustration.

_No one _insults the way Miles Edgeworth plays chess. _No one._

Although Edgeworth deeply wanted to hit him one across the face, he was a polite man- and so clenched his fists together under the table.

"I know that was a bad move. Nothing came over me, though, I just-" Edgeworth began to say, but stopped himself as the man opposite him smiled innocently. Shuddering, Edgeworth remembered a mass murderer by the name of Dahlia Hawthorne; she used to smile like that, always, and with a burning desire Edgeworth desperately wanted to know what she was thinking at those moments.

"Never mind. Now, I will move…"

Edgeworth held his breath. This could be his downfall, or his quick path to victory.

He did not know what the outcome would be, and Miles Edgeworth did not like relying on chance, so he took a sip of chamomile tea to calm himself down.

"…this piece."

_Yes! _Edgeworth thought happily, as he moved his blue, unnaturally spiky-haired pawn to the king's space and took it with a smirk on his face.

"Checkmate."

Edgeworth smiled as the opposition let out a cry of frustration and put his hand to his head in despair. It was a heart-warming feeling, beating someone, as much outside the courtroom as inside.

_That will show him._

Glancing at the opposition's hand, Edgeworth's eyes widened and he nearly got the shock of his life. The hand had acquired a deformed, face-like shape on the back of his hand, twitching as the scars moved, blood vessels showing up clearly next the scars. It was the most terrifying thing Edgeworth had ever seen- at least, for a very long time- and was mildly disturbed.

Edgeworth blinked, and the hand was back to normal.

Shaking his head, he sighed in relief, fear disappearing immediately.

_It must have been the light, and my imagination.  
There is no need to worry, Miles._

The other man stood up to leave, and Edgeworth opened the door for him.

"How were you able to beat me like that? It happened so suddenly that I didn't know what was happening."

Edgeworth smiled weakly.

"I remember a man who used to lose a trial until the very last minute, in which he would turn it all around at the end. I have only ever beaten that man once, and I have never heard of anyone else beat him since then."

The man opposite him furrowed his brow, eyes going blank and an almost _evil _expression on his face.

"Ah, yes. _Phoenix Wright._" the other man spat in such a bitter tone that Edgeworth started to become agitated. What could this man have against Phoenix, a man of his own occupation?

_This man is really worrying me…I do not think he's as innocent as everyone thinks…_

_However, it's just a prediction, and they are usually wrong._

_No, it __**is **__wrong. I have no evidence, and anyway…that man is not a criminal. Not __**him**__._

_It's his laugh, though. And his eyes…and his hand…and his tone of speech…and how he talks about Phoenix…_

Edgeworth subconsiously picked up the spiky-haired, cyan blue pawn from the chess table and clutched it tightly in his fist.

"Anyway, Edgeworth, if you need anything, just phone me. There is a reason that they call me the 'Coolest Defence Attorney in the West', you know."

"I do know."

"Goodbye, Miles Edgeworth."

"Goodbye…Kristoph Gavin."

* * *

After Kristoph had left, Edgeworth listened to Kristoph's footsteps die away down the corridor towards the elevator, picked up his phone and frantically dialled a number. It rang three times, and just before the voicemail message instructions began to monotonously direct Edgeworth to 'leave a message after the tone', someone picked up on the other end.

"Hello, this is Phoenix Wright, and you've just reached the Wright Anything Agency."

"Wright…I need to talk with you a moment..."


End file.
